A Lonely Rock in Nowhere Space
by SneakyDorcas
Summary: The Weeping Angels. The silent assassins. The loneliest beings in the universe.
1. Chapter 1

_The basic idea for this has been kicking around my head ever since I started writing. And now, I'm proud to say I've given a start, at least, on one of the more unusual ideas I've ever had._

_EDIT: From__ the__ time I post chapter 2 onward, I'll put up a song at the start of each chapter to accompany the story thus far. I hope this adds to the experience presented, and I hope you enjoy it._

_Incidentally, the 'suggested listening' song for this chapter is Not an Angel from Trigun._

* * *

A lonely rock in the middle of nowhere space.

All of it was dust, ash, sand, rock. Practically featureless but for a few minor variations in geology. A cave or two dotted the landscape, burrowing tentatively into the sparse hills.

No one lived there.

Two creatures existed on the face of the dry rock.

But that's not the same as living.

Each one believed itself to be the loneliest being in the entire universe.

A certain Doctor might well agree with them.

Each day, without fail, they would sit on opposite ends of the planet, bury their faces in their hands, and weep. Their tears left no tracks in the endless dust, for they had none to shed.

Angels did not shed tears.

This story might well progress faster if we had a way to refer to each of our subjects a bit more quickly, but doing so would be tricky.  
We could give them names, but that would be unfair. They would never hear it.  
We could say one was more feminine than the other, but it would be a lie.  
We could say one was more beautiful in form than the other, but that, too, would be a lie.  
We could say one was wracked more powerfully than the other by the utter loneliness of its existence, but that would be the worst possible lie we could speak, and wrong in the worst possible way.

They might well have shot through space on that little rock in the middle of nowhere, forever, and never had the slightest inkling of the other's existence.

This is the story of why that did not happen.

I

The first one (and so we shall refer to them, in order of appearance; it is sad indeed that we cannot find names for the two) preferred sitting on high spots. He (or perhaps she) wanted the stars. He yearned for them, dreamed of them, ached for them, wished he could be among them. Anywhere was better than this lonely rock in a lonely stretch of a lonely galaxy in a lonely universe.

He was hungry.

He could not recall the last meal he'd taken, the last soul he'd touched.

The cold never registered, for the first of them. He simply didn't feel it, not after all this time. He was a thinker, as far as his kind could be; he understood that most planets had a core of warmth, somewhere deep under the surface, a core of fire and iron and massive power.

A power that he could touch, perhaps.

But this rock?

It had no core, warm or otherwise.

There was no escape, no matter how far or how fast he dug. His prison was cold, and barren, and inescapable.

And so he wept.

I-I

The other one loved to lie in the deep places of this cold, barren paradise. She (or perhaps he, we cannot be sure) enjoyed being close to the ground, feeling the wind slowly carve out a hill next to her, knowing all the while she was the only reason it would ever exist. There could never be any better place than this barren rock in the middle of a desolate galaxy.

If only this place had food.

She could scarcely remember the flavor of the last aura she'd tasted.

She felt the cold keenly, and reveled in it; she was a simple creature, simpler than any in the known universe. She wasted no time on ideas she couldn't use; if she wanted to do something, she simply did it. There was nothing to stop her, and nothing she could not do.

Except find a friend. That was beyond her power, no matter how much she might wish otherwise.

And no living thing wished more powerfully than this one.

Yet she could find no one to share her joy. Her prison was friendless, and lonesome, and inescapable.

And so she wept.

I-I-I

Perhaps it was a miscalculation in some cosmic angle of trajectory. Perhaps it was a dare of some kind, an attempt to prove some alien's dexterity. Perhaps one Time Lord or another decided it would be fun to try out a tractor beam on a passing stone, a long time ago.

However it happened, it happened.


	2. Chapter 2

_It's only after years of writing that I think I understand the reason why I do it. Or one of the reasons, anyway. I think every story I write is a fragment of my mind, put into metaphorical terms. Yeah, it's not the most original of revelations - I mean, pretty much any writer would say the same - but that doesn't change how mind-hammering it is when you finally_ get it. _If you get it, you know what I mean. If not, you will.__  
Eventually.  
_

_So, thank you for reading. Thanks for indulging a raving madman._

_Suggested listening for this chapter: Clair de Lune by Claude Debussy  
_

* * *

The first one sat atop a small spire of rock. He (or perhaps she) was absorbed in thought, giving little attention to what was around him. A half-figured algorithm of cosmic scale wandered through his head, drawing strands of his mind into solving it.

His eyes gazed at the stars, but his attentions were turned inward.

He saw little but what was in his mind.

For a very long time, he did not see one star fade out.

At last, he saw the black space over that star. His mind dragged for a moment, wondering...

The star blinked back into light.

Another blinked out.

He knew he saw it, this time. He wondered... if his mind were true, and the universe had gone mad... or perhaps the other way around...?

Another star blinked out.

The first one felt a feeling he did not expect. Something was coming. Speeding toward him at a colossal velocity. With a mass like that, at speeds that great... this whole place was doomed.

The thought put a smile on his stony face for the first time in...

...huh.

He couldn't remember.

He opened his arms and welcomed oblivion.

The shadow went red, then orange, then yellow as it plunged toward the earth.

It hit just below where he stood, shattering his spire to dust.

He felt somewhat disappointed. It was only a meteorite.

That was his favorite spire on this rock.

He cursed the meteorite for a little while, before noticing he didn't care.

A loud _crack_ off to his left caught his attention. Another meteorite impacted in front of him, then another behind him and another just far enough upwind to kick a patch of dust onto his back. A meteor shower.

He lay there for a long while, waiting.

The time between the meteor strikes became slower, slower, ever slower. Apart from the first few, none came even close to hitting him.

He felt... disappointment.

His arms dragged him up, up, farther and farther.

He was on his feet before he fully knew he had moved.

He stood quietly, thinking.  
Just thinking.

He thought about what he knew of the planet's geography. Could he remember another place, anywhere near as good, anywhere...?

...No. Nowhere better.

That was why he was never moved. He liked that plateau of weathered basalt more than he fully understood.

But it was gone now. He had nowhere.

His shoulders arched, rustling the feathers on his wings like leaves on a windswept tree. Patches of dust scraped against his skin in rough streams. He had nowhere to stay...

...but there was always something else to try.

He turned around and started walking.

I

The other one scraped her feet across the bottom of a miniature gulley. She (or perhaps he) enjoyed carving out miniature canyons, at the moment. She enjoyed the touch of stone on her bare feet, every grain flaking off and flying away as dust in the wind. She absolutely loved watching the edges of the wind sculpt out patterns in each grain.

Watching stone grow was wondrous. It didn't need a sculptor or a tool to carve itself into a work of beauty.

She was startled out of her socks when a rock fell from the sky and smashed into the gulley five centimeters from her toe, shattering her concentration.

She looked straight up.

That one look reminded her of the infinite sky.

She smiled a tiny bit wider.

She looked at her feet.  
They were worn out, scraped and scuffed from the rough stone.

She turned around, slowly, looking around at the worn surface of this little lovely planet.

Then she looked straight up.

She thanked the heavens for their little reminder.

And she took a walk.


End file.
